


Shadow Phantom

by WordStorm



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 14:26:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4308609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordStorm/pseuds/WordStorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was originally a flash-fiction story that I was writing for school, but then it was too long, so I had to take out some of my favourite parts. Either way, here is is my first Phanphic (what an odd term...hehehe). I hope it's okay. <br/>I was going to make it at least a novella, but then I realized that I would never get it done, especially since I'm working on so many stories right now, so here I present: Shadow Phantom, my take of PotO if it happened in one of the worlds I made up. I sincerely hope you all like it. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadow Phantom

A figure fell from the high ceiling, dark cloak billowing behind. He landed lightly in a crouch, before slinking through the shadows of the cavernous room, making his way to the woman who stood by one of the large stained-glass windows along the wall. Once he stood directly behind her, he waited. After a few moments, she spun around to face him with a slight intake of breath. Her face lit up in a smile as they embraced; an expression that he faintly mirrored.

“I was beginning to think you would not come.”

His smile faded as he cupped her cheek with one black-gloved hand. “Did you truly think that I would break a promise to you, my angel?”

She shook her head. “Never.”

She ran her hand along the side of his face, feeling the eerie smoothness of the mask that hid the majority of his face. “Why again do you wear this?”

“You know very well.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

His lips quirked up slightly. “I know.”

At that moment, the doors flew open, and light flooded the darkened church. The man and woman spun to face them, as from the crowd of torchbearers emerged a man, red-haired and with a drawn sword.

“Begone, vile creature! Release her from your foul spell!”

The masked man turned to the woman. “I do believe your false fiancé has issued a challenge, my angel.” He turned back to the other man. “That would be quite difficult, Raoul, as she is under no spell of mine!”

Raoul scowled. “If you will not admit and release her, I shall have to do it myself!” He smirked. “I must say that to kill you would be quite a pleasure!”

The black-clad man raised an unseen eyebrow, and his mouth turned up in a cruel smile. “I easily say the same to you!” He removed his cloak and handed it to the woman, the torchlight shimmering off of his black hair. “If you would, my angel.”

She grasped his wrist. “Erik, be careful.”

His smile turned tender. “I am always careful, dear Christine.”

With that, he drew his sword and approached Raoul. They circled for a moment, then with a ringing clang, Erik began the duel. They duelled throughout the church and out onto the darkened grounds. That was where the duel intensified, and Erik’s eyes gained a near-feral glow.

“You forget, Raoul, that the shadows are my friends.”

A solid rope from the shade of a tree, and wrapped around Raoul’s neck. He dropped his sword, clutching at the slowly-tightening noose of shadows. Erik approached where Raoul hung from the tree, laughing darkly and twirling his sword.

“Quite the forgettable little human you are,” the black-haired man remarked. “I wonder, have you forgotten…” He gestured at his mask. “No, yes? Well, I shall remind you.”

The mask dissolved into shadows, revealing Erik’s true face. Golden eyes stared at Raoul out of a sharp-featured visage, reddish-grey scales taking the place of skin. A black-gloved hand shot out and grasped Raoul by the throat as the noose dissolved just as the mask had. Erik leaned in close and whispered into the other man’s ear.

“She never chose you, little human.”

Raoul’s eyes went wide with surprise at the statement as the hand about his throat clenched and a sword was thrust between his ribs.

The red-haired man’s body fell to the ground with a thump as Erik turned to face the torch-bearing crowd, his mask forming once more. The crowd parted as he walked back towards the church, and his angel. When he arrived, Christine was waiting.

Erik placed the cloak about her shoulders, and with a puff of smoke, they were gone.

 

* * *

They appeared in Erik’s home, set by an underground lake far beneath the Daron Mountain chain. The temperature was strange, as the chill from the lake met the heat emitting from deep within the stone. Christine draped the cloak over a random ledge, and Erik disappeared down one of the passageways branching off from the cavernous chamber.

Christine sat down on a chair that was near Erik’s pipe organ, and thought back to when the entire Raoul, or as Erik put it, ‘false former fiancé’ situation began, back when the golden-eyed man still lived under the Tel’helor Opera House.

**_ They were in Erik’s lair. Raoul was caught by the black-haired man’s noose, and he was making her choose between them. Her brow furrowed as she looked between them. Really? Her choice was not clear? Then again, perhaps she had not been very obvious about it. Huh. Well then, time to make it as obvious as she could, the problem was, if she did as Erik wanted, then they would think she chose Raoul, because she was setting him free, but if she let Raoul die, then Erik would think…ahrg! Why did it have to be so difficult?! With an imperceptible shake of her head, she made her choice. _ **

**_ The blond woman walked forwards, until she and Erik were standing chest-to-chest, well, as chest-to-chest they could be, given their height differences. With one hand, she pulled his head down and kissed him. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the hand that was not holding the noose flailing about slightly, as if he had no idea what to do with it. _ **

Erik returned before she could finish reminiscing. The mask was gone, as was the all-black ensemble, replaced with a loose white tunic and brown trousers. The low collar of the tunic, and the lack of gloves and boots, showed easily that the scales on his face were not limited to that, but rather spread over his entire body, as far as Christine could tell. His eyes were bright as he smiled at her, and sat down at the organ, beginning to softly play a tune that he seemed to make up as he went along. Not only that, but it seemed much more cheerful than any song she had ever heard him play. The music slowly changed to a wedding march, and he turned to her.

Before he spoke, she answered the music. “Yes.”

His fingers stilled, and his smile was the brightest she had ever seen on him as he slipped a very familiar gold ring onto her finger. She smiled back, and they shared a tentative kiss. When he pulled away, he cupped her cheek with one hand.

“My angel of music.” He said softly.

“My shadow phantom.” She replied in the same tone.

Erik smiled again, and stood, before pulling her out of her seat as they danced to music only they could hear. Then the organ fell over.


End file.
